The early morning is a palette of bold;
sherbet orange singing upon the rooftop, so as
to make a statement,
here is the dominion of birds,
of wintry mist,
and all things that represent
the hues of the world; but my heart is heavy.
I cannot write of sugary love; not when
there is a condition of chaos prevailing,
not when there is bedlam,
someone has to address the rubble,
the splintered glass, the blood
and the bones.
Here the shadows tilt with every step,
the crocus yellow
blooms despite the odds,
this city devours time and pumps feeling
inside the concrete,
perhaps it too is aware of trepidation that’s building.
We all feel the pressure at times;
feel the walls closing in on us, feel breath
coming out in gasps,
but with time, I have learned
to dance with sorrow, to explore
the dark spaces of being,
and to give in to whispered waves of emotion,
until it’s time to let go—
we aren’t meant to be faultlessly curated,
aren’t meant to wear pastels
everyday, sometimes monochrome is a choice
that’s better suited.
The best thing we can do
is to allow ourselves to feel the weight of what
we are experiencing.
It’s like Bukowski said, don’t be clubbed
into dank submission,
we must wake with the truth, we must
give in to the reality that greets us
of every day, in the newspapers, in the faces
we must learn to battle with hope and echo
the hum of the city.
STAND WITH UKRAINE 🇺🇦
Photo credits: Fair Use, Pexels.com
Posted for Open Link Night #311 @dVerse Poets Pub